


Hunting  Mice, Saving People

by Hikary



Series: Fluffyverse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I LOVE JESS, Incest, Jess and John would have been best buddies, Kitten!Lucifer, Post-Stanford Era (Supernatural), Stanford Era (Supernatural), Stanford Student Sam Winchester, puppy!Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:44:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21740947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikary/pseuds/Hikary
Summary: That’s the excuse, the thing, the only reason he can still keep his family together. It’s more like trying to prevent two massive buildings from collapsing against each other – and on himself – like in a shitty superhero blockbuster, but without having superpowers. He doesn’t like cats, he probably got it from dad, who is probably allergic.That damn fluffy thing was saving lives on a daily basis, as much as he and dad.orSam and Jess got Satan from a cat shelter, and somehow this is making Dean's life easier. For now.{part of the same verse, but can be read as a stand-alone}
Relationships: Dean Winchester/John Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Series: Fluffyverse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1020516
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	Hunting  Mice, Saving People

**Author's Note:**

> • This is quite an old fic I love so much. I started writing this a couple of years ago and it became the focus of this so-called ‘Fluffy verse’. I know it’s a little bit more angsty, but in my head it works as a bridge between the Canon and all the silly family fluff I normally write about Dean and John.
> 
> • Dean's pov is spanning from Stanford to post-Stanford (current events), so he had a lot of time to make things work with John. I don’t want to get into that kind of angst in this series, but I cannot never address it either.
> 
> • All my JohnDean fics are 100% #superconsensual, approved and certified by Tad Cooper himself.
> 
> *I just got my eyes lasered so pointing out any typos is not just appreciated, it's basically encouraged because I still see my laptop screen as a kitten sees Christmas lights XD
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean doesn’t like cats.

That’s the excuse, the  _ thing _ , the only reason he can still keep his family together. It’s more like trying to prevent two massive buildings from collapsing against each other – and  _ on himself _ – like in a shitty superhero blockbuster, but without having superpowers. He doesn’t like cats, he  _ probably _ got it from dad, who is  _ probably _ allergic. It’s the only reason why Dean doesn’t visit Sam and Jess often or why dad never visits or why they never visit Dean and dad. It’s the cat. Nothing fucks up your life like an adorable little kitty, right? Dean has learned to be grateful for that ball of four and haste – because Lucifer can purr all he wants in front of Sammy, but Dean just knows he’s plotting to exterminate mankind. Yet, Dean was a clever boy and never,  _ never _ took the cat for granted. That damn fluffy thing was saving lives on a daily basis, as much as he and dad.

« Hey Sam. How’s Jess? »

And that was an easy start, followed by 'how is school' and such.

« How’s… errr, how’s  _ the _ _ business _ going? »

« Good. How’s the cat? »

« Great! He caught his first mouse today. »

_See?_

Hunting mice, saving people. The family business.  _ Ish _ . 

Dean cried a little on the inside, knowing that Sam was probably really excited about Lucifer’s first hunt.

* * *

« What is it? » John asked, from the couch, and  _ damn _ if he could still sound so soft and loving, sometimes, just like  _ himself _ , the John from before the hunter, or from after Sam left – Dean still couldn’t exactly tell the difference.

« Sam and Jess are spending the weekend in Ashtonville. »

« That’s less than an hour drive from here. »

« I know. »

« Go and see your brother, Dean. »

John was using his  _ I–am– still – your – father  _ voice, so Dean felt allowed to pull his  _ bit – too – late – for – that _ face.

« They probably brought the cat. I can’t deal with Satan in a full-size apartment, let alone in a cottage. That thing’s going to kill me. »

« Can you imagine? How  _ anti-climatic _ . After all this time, what gets you is  _ a cat _ . »

« Thanks for the concern. » Dean scoffed.

« It’s a cat, Dean. »

« When the cat will be walking over our dead bodies lapping blood from our backstabs, my Force ghost – because I totally deserve to get a Force ghost – will be there singing  _ told ya _ to your sorry dead asses. »

John had started laughing halfway through Dean’s delirium – one of those rare, and therefore even more precious moments when he seemed to have completely forgotten himself, lost in Dean’s solemn expression and ridiculous words.

« What’s wrong with you- » he breathed out.

« Nothing. I am flawless. » Dean flashed his best cocky smile and landed so very ungracefully on the couch, next to John. « It’s the cat.  _ Think about it _ , those freaks from Ancient Egypt loved cats. They also loved trying to suck people’s brains out through their nose. That’s  _ not _ okay. »

« Yeah, that’s,  _ yeah  _ » John shook his head, and he couldn’t stop giggling « That’s so  _ not okay _ . »

Dean rolled his eyes while fighting the urge to poke at John’s dimples. John was the one acting upon their thoughts, somehow, because he reached for Dean’s face and stroke a thumb over the curve of his cheekbone.

« You know what else is not okay? »

« You tell me, you’re old and wise  _ apparently _ . »

«  _ You _ thinking you don’t have the right to go and see your brother. To be with him. Because he built this new life for himself, and it’s a good one, the kind where someone like you shouldn’t be allowed to play and break things. »

Dean stared – only stared – for a long moment.

« Are we still talking about me? »

« We are talking about whoever has the chance to be in Sam’s life. » John said, softly.

_ Father-like _ , one would say. Which only made the warmth in Dean’s chest even more bizarre than usual – not frightening, not painful, nothing wrong anymore, and yet still beyond his understanding. It had been a while, though, since he had been interested in analysing his own feelings.

Dean curled up next to John, as close as he could, and found a safe spot in the crook of John’s neck to bury his face – and his words with it.

«  _ I love you _ . »

He could count the number of times he had said that in the light. John turned to kiss him, right between his mouth and his nose, where a splash of freckles met the curve of Dean’s lips.

« I know. And you can still go and see Sammy. »

« You called him  _ Sammy _ . » Dean pointed out, killing the moment.

John took advantage of his position and grab a pillow to fake an assassination attempt.

«  _ Why do I even try, seriously _ . »

Aside from the moment when his father decided to suddenly become the emotionally intelligent element of the family (when nobody asked him to, by the way), Dean had a pretty easy and jolly time being as emotionally  _ incompetent _ as he pleased,  _ thank you very much _ . He made sure to feel guilty, wherever he went, whoever he was with, whatever he did. When he made Sam laugh,  _ genuinely  _ laugh, when dad finally stopped digging through old cases and collapsed on his shoulder. Whenever he was taking care of someone he loved, he made sure to remind himself of whom he was neglecting. Guilt was like chronic migraine, but not a nasty one. The kind you don’t get pills for, because  _ meh _ , it’s not that bad, it’s not like a real illness. You just suffer all the time, a little bit, but never enough. He had always found it  _ hysterical  _ and quite depressing how everything ended up being a race, for people, even sadness and pain and all those things people shouldn’t be allowed to judge. And yet, you can fail at suffering, too. Who else but Dean Winchester could manage to do that?

The cat didn’t care.

The cat cared about his food and his toys and Sam scratching the back of his ears. Maybe Dean should have been a cat. Sure, catness must have had its downsides, too. Dean wondered what the cat made of Sam and Jess leaving the house every day. Or perhaps he didn’t care about that either – maybe that was more of a dog’s thing.  _ Ok, but let’s say he doesn’t care. That still happens, right? _ He must have wondered why they didn’t make a decision – stay or leave, you stupid human. It occurred to him that maybe cats knew you were coming back, and they just waited and see how many time you could make a fool of yourself by changing your mind.

_ Damn, cats are one mean ex-girlfriend. _

« How’s dad? »

« Woah. Sam. »

« You know what? Forget I said anything. »

A long minute passed. Dean thought about buildings collapsing. He smelled concrete. He saw a piece, standing in front of his own feet, big for sure, but not too heavy for him to pick it up. Help cleaning the mess a little bit.

« Dad’s fine. »

« Good. »

« How’s the devil? »

«  _ Lucifer _ is fine. »

« Why did you called him that if you don’t like my devil jokes? »

« I didn’t name the poor thing. The weird guy we got him from had already done the damage. »

« I like the weird guy already. »

He heard Sam taking a deep breath. Too deep to be about the cat’s name anymore.

« Maybe- maybe you could  _ both _ stop by for a coffee, sometime. »

Dean swallowed hard.

« What about the cat? »

« Dean, you know dad is not  _ really _ allergic to cats, right? »

« I know. Just checkin’. »

Dean wanted this, he really did. However, the little drop of survival instinct left on his body buzzed and flashed red like crazy at the thought of dragging Sammy and dad into the same room after  _ years _ . He couldn't blame his father if the idea of meeting Sam wasn't actually thrilling. It took him ages to convince John he was  _ not _ the worst human being in the history of humanity for accepting they didn't not only love each other, they were  _ in love _ , and  _ we were going to Hell anyway. I _ t also took Dean about ten seconds to understand that accepting that, for John, meant cutting Sam out. There was no way both versions of himself could coexist in John’s head –and understandably so. There was just so much fuck-ups a man could handle in one lifetime.

But, hey, asking never killed more people than a Wendigo, right?

« Why now? »

John narrowed his eyes.

« He didn’t say. Maybe it's the cat. »

« The cat? »

« Yeah, you know, Sam is developing a parental instinct. »

« Oh, for fuck’s sake. I was even listening seriously for a second there. »

« Okay, easy peasy: do you wanna see Sam?»

« I have been dying to see him, Dean. »

« Then- »

« But- »

«  _ Then,  _ we are going, we are drinking the coffee, and petting the stupid cat _ .  _ »

Nobody was killed in action.

He feared John might have actually had a heart attack when Jess opened the door. If there was ever another human who could remind you of Mary Winchester, that was Jessica Moore. Strokes aside, no bad vibes, not even regretting all of his life choices and shit like that over Jess asking about ‘girlfriends’. The fact that Jess was super cool, almost too cool for Sam, obviously helped. She was short, funny, and chatty in the most endearing way. Jess wasn’t the type to ask ‘any girl, Dean?’ nor even ‘anyone special in your life?’. She was curious about the trips and the places she’d never been to; and she kept pinching Sam’s arm –  _ oh my God, we should totally go there! _ and such. Dean had never look at his own life like that. He always pointed out the cheap hotels, the junk food, the lack of friends. But Jess, well, she just filled all the gaps. She saw foreign landscapes, and new people to meet, and time to simply drive towards the unknown listening to old rock ballads. Dean got it, really, he  _ saw _ it: if Jess was capable of finding beauty in a hunter’s life, Dean could only assume how special she could make you feel like a... well, as a regular person, a college student like Sam was now. Something warm arose in his chest at the thought. He had officially declared this gorgeous human being worthy of his little brother.

The cat, for once, seemed to care a little bit. He sniffed John seriously, then glanced sideways at Sam. Dean nearly choked, trying not to laugh at his own thoughts, because he could totally see Sammy sitting cross-legged on the floor, sharing his daddy issues with the poor cat. He almost felt sorry. And yet, as ridiculous as it might sound, the cat appeared to have an understanding of certain family dynamics. It took an awkward hug between John and Sam, that Dean caught unintentionally, walking back from the bathroom, for the feline to warm up to John.

« What did you tell the cat? »

« What? »

« I’m curious, too. » Jess barged in, proudly caring the most horribly burnt frozen pizzas Dean had ever seen or smelled in his life. « These two sleep-deprived nerds spend nights on the sofa reading Polish queer poetry and sharing secrets. »

Sam was sporting his traditional bitchface while Lucifer purred ever so innocently. Everyone looked at the food – cat included – and Jess simply shrugged.

« This was just me trying to show off my non-existent cooking skills and failing spectacularly. Darling » she patted her boyfriend’s shoulder « Shall we order some takeaway? »

Lucifer meowed.

« Not for you. You already got sashimi once, that’s not happening on my watch. »

« How many times do I have to tell you Jess, we ran out of cat food- »

** *** **

They love Jess.

John asks about her pretty much every time Sam calls. Sam wants to see dad again, and Dean smiles, but he leaves John time to process, he allows the strange sort of quiet happiness to sink in before they have another go. Jess persists in burning all their food supplies, but Dean secretly believes both John and Sam would actually eat the food, if she asked. She doesn’t, though. Dean and Lucifer are both disgusted and in awe.

Sam keeps pretending he doesn’t have a platonic affair with the cat.

Lucifer doesn’t comment on the rumours.

The cat is different, now. He is attentive. At the second visit, he furrows his ears when John walks in, like it’s unexpected.  _ Like cats can actually have expectations.  _ John doesn’t mind the cat, for the good or the bad, and occasionally pats him on the head. Lucifer appears confused by his presence – not bothered, quite the opposite. He follows him around with genuine curiosity. Dean catches a glimpse of the cat looking down at his human from the kitchens highest piece of furniture.

« I know, buddy. » Sam smiles up at him. « ‘Guess we were wrong, uh? »

Lucifer titles his head. Something about him reminds Dean of the quiet after the storm.

Dean laughs, and laughs, and laughs until John has to physically stop him, threatening to take over the phone call and ask directly to Sam what was going on. Dean covers the speaker with a hand.

« Jess caught Sammy having a heart-to-heart with the cat. Man, we are dying here. »

_ Someday you’ll get it,  _ Sam is shouting in the background.  _ Someday you will find a soulmate and you’ll get it.  _

Dean almost chokes. Sam didn’t just call the cat ‘soulmate.’ Hell, what is wrong with his family?

Sam Winchester is a curse. Worse than any witch mojo, seriously. The puppy won’t stop following Dean. He is scruffy and there is a little bit of burger sauce on his nose tip - maybe Dean shouldn’t have shared his cheeseburger with him - and it makes the puppy sneeze.

_ Fucking. Adorable _ .

« I can’t bring you back with me, buddy. The old man doesn’t really like your kind. » Dean scratches to top of his own head. « Maybe also because the last dog Sammy brought home was a hyperactive yellow Lab who hate out of her food in the first five minutes. Freaking  _ Loki _ . »

The puppy barks excitedly and waves his tiny tail. Dean is so fucked. The only hope is that Castiel’s ridiculously cute paws and fluffy ears and blue eyes will win John over before the man realises what he has agreed on-.

« Does he talk to him? » Jess asks.

« All the time. He’s all ‘Cas, now we’re doing this’ and ‘Cas, we’re going there’. »

« But he doesn’t talk about his feelings? »

« Not yet, no. » John sighs.

« It’s like a girls sleepover in here. I’m waiting for Lucifer to bride Sam’s hair. »

There is so much failure and mess and general  _ brokenness _ in their life, that Dean eventually stops counting, burns his mental list, and does  _ fuck all _ . There are things to be grateful for, between a splash of Wendigo’s blood and a sprinkle of sulphur. There is John’s warm weight curled around him, falling asleep to a totally uncalled for  _ Godzilla _ ’s marathon. There are Cas’s adoring puppy eyes, in love with pretty much everything Dean does. There’s Jess' burnt pizza. There’s Lucifer‘s soft purr that now welcomes them at the beginning of every visit. And there is Sam, being the brother he, perhaps, does deserve after all.

-fin

**Author's Note:**

> • I do belive John would have loved Jessica. Any human capable of dealing with Stanford!Sam would probably gain John’s respect until the end of time. 
> 
> *When I wrote this, I was just starting to fall in love with Lucifer in the show. I was going through the Sam/Lucifer tag for the first time. Now, I cannot even remember a time where I was in drowning in Samifer feels and and I wasn’t known to my friends as ‘the one who doesn’t like drugs but want to try mushrooms in Amsterdam hoping to allucinate being Lucifer’s vessel’. So please bear in mind that anything I brought the time, including the first draft of this week, was supposed to be a hard-core agsty Samifer where Jess died. But, you see, then _I made John smile in this fic_.  
**S m i l e. **  
You don’t make John I-Deserve-Nothing-From-This-Life Winchester smile and then act like it’s nothing. (Yes, John laughing comes straight from Season 1 Bloopers because that’s the purest thing you’ll ever see.)


End file.
